How it Happened
by PsychoticDemonic
Summary: "You know," France said so nonchalantly that it was anything but nonchalant. "I've always wondered why Canada is on top of America." England spat out his tea. "Huh?" America asked, eyes wide. Canada groaned. America/Canada.


It was late march; an entirely insignificant day. America, France, England, and Canada were out to lunch during a break from the world conference they were all attending. Canada looked up at France, and noticed a little glimmer in his eye.

'Oh no…this can't be good…' He thought to himself, and was just about to start talking about hockey or the environment or anything, and had just opened his mouth to start-

"You know," France said so nonchalantly that it was anything but nonchalant. "I've always wondered why Canada is on top of America."

England spat out his tea.

"Huh?" America asked, eyes wide.

Canada groaned.

"It is basic geography, mais…Je ne sais pas. It does not make sense."

America muttered something and then leaned back in his chair. England's eyes were closed, massaging his temples, and he seemed to be trying to block everyone out.

"That's…well…that's just how it happened," Canada said, intending to leave his answer at that.

"And…?" France prompted. Canada cursed under his breath.

"Al was worn out and weak from the…" Canada looked quickly at England. "War."

"I do not understand."

'Damn that glimmer,' Canada thought to himself. He sighed and started to explain. "Let's see…It was 1776…"

"Alfred!" Canada called into the house. "You here?"

There was no response.

"Alfred?" He tried again, louder. Starting to panic, he raced up the stairs, looking into every room he passed. When he entered America's bedroom, he stopped short and let out a sigh of relief. There was his brother, sleeping in his bed.

Matthew walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at the other Nation. He brushed a hand through the golden hair, accidentally rubbing a thumb against Nantucket. The cornflower blue eyes opened, then smiled sleepily up at him.

"Hey, Matt," Alfred said, yawning.

"Hey, Al. How're you feeling?"

America mumbled something and shook his head. "As okay as it could be, I guess."

Canada started to run his fingers through Alfred's hair, trying to relax him. Then he got an idea, and knew one of the best things he could do to relax his brother.

"You want some pancakes, Al?"

America's eyes opened and he grinned up at his brother. "Sure."

Canada kissed his brother softly, then got up and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. He mixed the ingredients then plopped the first batch onto a hot griddle. He flipped them over after a few minutes, then took them off and placed them on a plate. There was a thump in the hallway, then a quiet curse. America appeared in the doorway a few seconds later.

"You didn't need to come down," Matthew told him. "I would have brought it up."

Alfred didn't respond at first, walking up and wrapping his arms around Canada from behind. "What would you have brought up?" He whispered in Canada's ear.

"The pancakes, like I…" Canada's eyes widened in realization, then he sighed. "You're insufferable."

"Care to bring something else up?"

"First, get in bed. I'll bring you food and then…possibly." A blush colored Matthew's cheeks.

The arms around his waist disappeared and he heard Alfred thumping up the stairs.

Matthew loaded a tray with a plate of pancakes, a jar of maple syrup, and a glass of juice.

Alfred downed it all fast, making it obvious how impatient he was. Canada moved the tray, then turned around again and sat on the bed. He kissed Alfred's forehead softly, then felt hands tugging him down. Their lips met, pressing lightly together. As the kiss grew more and more passionate Alfred swept his tongue against the crease of Matthew's lips. He opened them, clenching his hands in Alfred's shirt as the wet muscle swept into his mouth. It rubbed against the roof of his mouth, then flickered against Canada's own tongue, coaxing it. Matthew scooted closer to his brother, sitting right next to him. As the kiss grew more passionate, Matthew's position grew more uncomfortable. He made a noise deep in his throat and swung around so he straddled his twin. He leaned his head back as Alfred's lips descended on his neck, kissing, sucking, and biting.

A tanned hand started tugging at Matthew's shirt.

"Al, not today, no farther," Canada told his brother.

"Why not? You got somewhere to go?"

"No, but…"

"Just relax, Mattie." He nipped lightly at the soft spot on Matthew's neck. Canada bit his lip and dug his fingers into America's shoulders. "Don't tell me I'll have to convince you."  
"But-ah!" Alfred had lightly pinched Matthew's nipple through his shirt. "Al, not now!"

"So I _will_ have to convince you." Alfred pulled Matthew to his chest. Sick as he was, and weak at the moment, he was able to hold Canada without problem. America smirked.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Al."

"I won't, Mattie. I just…I just need this. Please, Mattie."

"…fine." Matthew caressed the sides of Alfred's face and pulled their lips together in a passionate kiss. America once again ran his fingers along his brother's chest, making him moan into the kiss. Canada started pulling at the other's shirt, breaking the kiss for a second to pull it over the other's head. Mathew's lips attacked Alfred's neck, sucking lightly on the hollow above his collarbone. Alfred sighed, his eyes closing in bliss. His hands tugged at Matthew's shirt impatiently. Sitting back on his brother's thighs, Canada pulled his shirt up and over his head, then started assaulting his brother's chest.

Sucking one dusky nub into his mouth, he swirled his tongue against it. Alfred's head fell back with a moan, his hands gripping his brother's shoulders.

"Matt…" One of Canada's hands smoothed over Alfred's sides, searching out every bruise and cut that had appeared because of the war with a feather-light touch. He released America's nipple and traced his lips across all of the small injuries. Alfred gasped as Canada's soft lips slid over a long, barely-healed scratch over his hip.

"Did I hurt you?" Matthew murmured, his lips hovering over it. "I'm sorry."

"Didn't hurt," Alfred replied, one of his hands running softly through his brother's light golden hair. "Felt good." Canada smiled, his tongue peeking out to rub softly against the long red mark, which earned him a sigh.

"Matthew…"

"Yes?" Canada answered, moving up once again to suck lightly on his brother's neck.

"I…" he seemed to have trouble getting the words out, so he swallowed and opened his mouth to try again. Matthew's lips covered America's softly, trapping the sound between them.

"I know, Al. I know." He slid his hand over America's pants, untying the string and pulling them off his slim hips. Canada started to do the same to himself, when his brother's hands reached down and undid them for him. Canada raised himself up to slip his pants down to his knees, then rocked to either side to fully take them off. He hooked his thumbs in his boxers, stretching the elastic before pulling them down, biting his lip when it brushed the tip of his erection. He pulled them off completely, and saw America hurriedly shoving his own off.

Matthew scooted forward and leaned against Alfred, kissing him deeply as he rubbed his hips, and erection, against his brother's. They both moaned, rocking together again. Matthew broke the kiss, one of his hands raising off America's shoulder to slip the first three fingers into his mouth, sucking them lightly. Alfred's eyes were trained on his brother's mouth, watching the slim digits slide in and out.

Then they were removed, Canada's arm stretching behind him. America couldn't see exactly when Canada's fingers entered him, but when blue-violet eyes closed in bliss and his hips moved back against the digit, America knew what had happened. He tweaked one of his brother's light pink nipples, which earned him a quiet moan. When he noticed the uncomfortable expression overcome Canada's face, he wrapped a hand around his brother's erection, his thumb pressing against the tip.

"A-ah," Matthew gasped, bucking forward into Alfred's hand and then moving back against his own fingers. He added a third, humming in pleasure.

"Lie back, Al," Canada told his brother, who did as he was told. Canada raised himself on his knees, placing one of his hands on America's chest. He slathered his other hand with spit before running his palm up and down America's length. He positioned it so the tip rested against his entrance before slowly lowering himself.

"Unh," Matthew groaned, biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut.

"Relax Mattie," Alfred muttered, hand landing on his brother's hip to rub soothing circles into the skin.

"I am, Al," Canada replied, before raising himself on his knees and letting gravity pull him down to envelop the other's hot length.

"M-matt," America groaned, hands tightening on Canada's hips. Matthew whimpered, moving up and then down once again. He started to move faster, a cry leaving his mouth every time he descended. It was fast, getting faster and harder and Canada was getting tighter and America was getting hotter. And then his prostate was struck and it felt as if he was being drowned under waves of pleasure.

"Ah!" Canada exclaimed. Alfred's hand wrapped around his erection. Matthew felt like sobbing because it was too much, and he was going to die from the pleasure but he needed more and more of it to reach that peak. The coil in Matthew's abdomen would more and more and he slammed down harder and Alfred pushed up harder and he was winding tighter and squeezing tighter.

"A-AL!" Canada yelled, back arching and head thrown back. The coil in his stomach snapped, and it felt like every nerve ending in his body was an overstretched rubber band, snapping in half before reforming and snapping again. Viscous liquid spurted from his erection, his thighs trembling. His passage clenched and unclenched over and over around Alfred's length, squeezing and releasing and squeezing and Alfred released as well, causing another shot of pleasure to race up Canada's spine.

"Matt," America groaned as he fell back completely onto the bed.

"You okay?" Canada panted, catching himself on his arms as he fell forward.

"I'm good. Better."

"That's good." Matthew smiled at him, raising his hips to let Alfred slip out of him. "Everything'll turn out okay, you know."

"I know." One of America's hands reached up and started kneading the flesh of Canada's bottom. "Hey, how about—"

England cut off Canada's story. "Why are you telling us all of this at a meal?" he exclaimed, face bright red. He pointed an accusing finger at France. "It's because of you! He got it from you!" France rolled his eyes and muttered something. America grabbed Canada's arm and started to pull him away from the table, and towards the bathroom.

"Alfred, c'mon! Not here!"

"And why not? Your story had that effect, what can I say?"

"You're insufferable," Canada muttered, but made sure to close and lock the bathroom door, a smile appearing on his face.


End file.
